


you know this is a bad idea

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad Decisions, Dysfunctional Relationships, Houston Aeros, M/M, Minnesota Wild, POV Second Person, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know this is a bad idea. You’re going to do it anyway. Most things are worse than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know this is a bad idea

**Author's Note:**

> Clair dared me to write Marco Scandella 2nd person pov fic. How could I back down from that?
> 
> I’m not exactly sure what to warn for, but this is about a dysfunctional relationship told from the pov of someone who’s in the middle of it. There are more specific warnings in the endnotes if you want.

You know what’s going to happen as soon as the game ends. You know what the rest of the night holds, and you feel powerless to stop it. You aren’t going to go out, because tonight is the first night of a back-to-back. No one is going to go out; everyone needs to sleep. You need your rest, but you aren’t going to get it.

Matt comes up to you in the locker room after the game, still smiling. He doesn’t smile like anyone else you know. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something in Matt’s smile that’s sharp, almost mocking. You have a hard time describing it. You don’t see it often enough to really figure it out. You think Matt’s smile is hot, but you wouldn’t admit to this. You wouldn’t admit to most of the things you think about Matt. You think his smile is so hot, but also suspect that you really shouldn’t. You think that being into Matt’s smile is a symptom of whatever’s wrong with you.

Matt’s smile can fuck you up if it catches you off guard. He smiles rarely, which makes it feel like a treat. You were expecting it tonight though — a big smile fits right after a big win. The unexpected smiles are the worst, when you have no idea what he’s thinking about, no idea what he could be planning or remembering to make him smile like that.

Tonight, he’s smiling, and happy, and he’s going to come home with you. You shouldn’t, but that doesn’t matter. He’s smiling; what else could you do?

He asks if you have plans, and you play coy, but you both know what’s going on. He asks if he can come over. You say yes. There’s isn’t another answer.

You know it’s a bad idea. You know you want different things, but it’s simpler to keep on going. It’s easy like this. It’s so easy to keep on going, to keep on making the same mistake night after night, so much easier than making it all stop. You have no idea how you could end things. To start, you’d have to say something. Even before that you’d have to admit something is wrong. Nothing is wrong. This feels great.

That isn’t a lie.

You won tonight — no, not you, the team. The team won tonight, and you were a small part of that. Matt did more. Matt got a shutout, while you didn’t have a point, just dumb penalties.

Matt won tonight, and now you’re his reward. That’s nice, it makes you feel special, that you’re a prize, yeah, a real prize, something tasty that Matt gets to go home with and sink his teeth into. 

You shower at the rink, knowing you’re just going to get dirty again. You don’t hurry exactly, but you’re one of the first to leave. Matt’s still stretching, talking to Darcy and putzing around. You know he’ll be over soon enough. 

You drive home, and let yourself into your empty apartment. Matt isn’t exactly good company, but he’s better than being alone.

You get upstairs, and poke around to make sure everything is where it needs to be. The bed’s unmade, but the sheets are clean enough. You don’t spend enough time here for it to really get messy, but you kick the dirty laundry into the corner.

The kitchen is even more barebones than the rest of the place, but it’s functional. You find something to eat, purely perfunctory. You aren’t enjoying this, but you need to refuel after a game, especially considering what comes next. You chew without tasting, not wanting to take your time. You don’t know how long it will be until Matt arrives.

You’re just putting your plate in the dishwasher when he gets here. You buzz him up, and pace until he knocks on the door.

You open it. He’s still smiling.

He comes in, toes his shoes off just inside. He’s comfortable here, or at least familiar. He doesn’t have a coat, doesn’t need one in Houston. 

You aren’t going to make the first move. Your role is to play coy, and be patient, until Matt comes and takes what he wants. You hope he doesn’t wait around. You want him to push you against the wall right inside the door, and kiss you, push you to your knees, something.

It doesn’t seem likely. He’s smiling too much to be that direct tonight. He’s in a good mood, he’ll want to play around, not just _take_ , even if you’re ready to give. You could try to give him something before he asks, but that’s no fun. The fun part is being pushed.

Matt’s sweeter after a win — just a little bit sweeter, but enough that you can notice. He’s sweeter, and he asks for more, enough that you think you want to give it to him; maybe, you might, it’s hard to tell. You’re happy that it’s you he’s coming to, or at least you used to be. Now it’s harder to say, because he isn’t so sweet most nights, but he always comes to you, and that means something. You want to want to give him everything he wants. You want to love him that much. You aren’t sure if you do, but it would be nice if you did. He can be so sweet some nights, and he always comes to you, which should mean something. You should want this just as much he does.

He takes your hand, and leads you to your bedroom. He’s so easy in your space. You hate this apartment, and haven’t done anything to make it seem like home. You’re supposed to be in Minnesota. Matt’s over a lot because you don’t have a roommate which means you don’t have to be quiet. That is nice, you guess.

You could fuck in the living room if you wanted. The two of you have before, more than once, but tonight Matt’s leading you to your bedroom, and you’re trailing after him, holding onto his hand loosely. You aren’t hand holding people. This is an exception. It feels odd. You’re grateful that you have such a small apartment, it isn’t far to your bedroom at all, and then he’s dropping your hand and telling you to get undressed.

You strip without thinking about it, dropping your clothes on the floor. You don’t look at Matt, it isn’t exciting anymore, if it ever was. The two of you just showered and changed together with the whole team. Nudity isn’t exciting.

You stand their, naked. You wait. You shiver. It isn’t that cold. It isn’t that long, and then Matt’s kissing you, and pushing you back onto the bed. You go easily. He’s warm and heavy on top of you.

Matt kisses you, sweetly to start. This is unusual. Usually it starts rough, stays rough, and ends rough. You don’t know what to do with the sweetness, and you don’t know where it’s going. You aren’t afraid, you’re excited. That’s a better thing to be. You’ve never been good at knowing if something’s going to hurt you enough that it isn’t fun.

Matt kisses you so sweet, so good, presses his lips against yours, kisses your cheek softly, kisses behind your ear, and down your neck. He’s being playful and gentle. You’re almost getting used to it when he bites down hard.

Fuck.

There it is. His teeth in your skin, so good, so sharp, not quite hard enough to break the skin — you wouldn’t mind, but it would be too much trouble to explain.

You’re getting hard against his hip, and can feel that he is too. There isn’t any urgency yet. You know better than to rush. Matt will make things happen when he wants them to happen. You like kissing, and you like being bitten. You’ll have marks tomorrow, and people will stare, but no one will say anything. No one will be surprised. It won’t be the first time. 

Matt presses down on a fading bruise, and you gasp into his mouth. You lose track of which come from Matt, and which are from the game. This is a game too, in it’s own way; the kind of game where everyone wins at the end, but somehow you still has a losing record for the season. That doesn’t matter. You let Matt kiss you even more, until it’s hard to breath.

He’s the one to pull away. You felt like you could have kept going until all the air in the room was gone, but Matt pulled away, and you aren’t going to pull him close to kiss him more. You’re going to prop yourself up on your elbows, and be patient, and see what he does next.

Matt reaches past you to find the lube you have stuck between the mattress and the headboard. There’s a flash of embarrassment, that you don’t have it hidden away in your dresser, and a tremor of discomfort in recognizing that Matt knew it would be there. He knows you so well, or at least some aspect of you that no one else does.

He squirts some in his hand, and reaches behind himself. This is still so hot, to watch Matt open himself up for your cock. Sometimes you wonder if it’d be better to do it yourself, to be trusted that much, but watching is undeniably compelling. He isn’t loud. His sounds are all cut off, bitten back, fighting to escape against his will. He’s trying so hard to not let on how much he enjoys this, managing well enough when he’s touching himself. It’ll be different when you’re fucking him. He isn’t so composed when it’s out of his control.

“Scandi, get a condom on already,” he bosses.

You nod, and reach into the nightstand. You open the condom carefully. Your hands don’t shake. You roll it on slowly. Your own hand feels good, but Matt will feel even better. Matt will feel overwhelmingly good — good enough to forget everything else. You just need to wait a little bit longer.

Matt has two fingers in himself now. He isn’t being gentle. He won’t want another. He likes it better this way. In another minute he’ll be sinking down your cock so slowly, so tight, so hot. Right now it’s all about anticipation. You try to enjoy this. 

Not much longer now. Not long at all. Your dick is hard and ready, Matt’s grunting as he fucks himself with two fingers. You could fuck him better than that, and you know he wants that, you just need to wait, one more minute, and then he’s getting your dick lined up where he wants it.

It starts so slowly. Matt gets the head of your cock in his body, and then takes it out again, easing off. Such a goddamn tease.

He is always so goddamn slow in the beginning. You don’t want to rush him — if he wants to take his time, get comfortable. You know this can be a lot. He goes so goddamn slow, until he’s half seated on your cock, and then he takes the rest in one move that has him gasping and digging his fingernails into your shoulder. You don’t like hurrying when you’re getting fucked, why would he? Who knows, really; Matt likes all kinds of things you don’t understand. He does all kinds of things that you don’t try to understand, and this is one of them. You never understand this, but it works for him, and it works for you, well enough anyway.

Now you’re in him. That’s your cock making him moan as he circles his hips. He’s so tight, so hot, and there’s only a thin layer of latex between you. This is as physically close to another person as you’ve ever been. Fucking doesn’t always feel intimate, but Matt knows you. You aren’t together, but this isn’t just sex. You don’t know what this, but that doesn’t matter, not when it feels like this.

You let Matt use you, and it’s glorious. It feels so good, and you don’t have to do anything, just lie back, while Matt fucks himself on your cock. He doesn’t want anything else. You don’t have to try to say the right thing, you don’t have to touch him just right, you just get to enjoy it. That used to be so appealing, now it’s getting old, but it still feels so good. Physically, on a base level, you have no complaints. 

Matt is jerking himself off, so you don’t have to think about that. It’s a show, and you have the best possible view. He’s getting more and more worked up, breathing heavily, beautifully, head thrown back. 

Matt comes, shaking around you. He leans forward, pressing your bodies together, putting his face against your neck. You wait, as he moves his hips, and shudders, and bites down on you. You wonder if it’s going to leave another mark. You kind of hope so. 

It could be so nice to remember this when you look in the mirror a few days. You feel good right now. You don’t usually feel this good. Most things are worse than this. You’d like seeing a reminder that feeling like this is possible.

When Matt’s done, he kisses over where he just bit, and then settles, resting on your chest. He sighs. His breath feels nice on your overheated skin. You’re still hard inside him. You aren’t going to move yet, not until he does. Once again, it’s time to be patient and trust that you’ll be rewarded.

He lifts his head off your chest and looks you in the eye. He rolls his hips once, experimentally, and you bite your lip to stay quiet. From the way he smirks that doesn’t stop him from noticing. He doesn’t it again, and this time he’s the one making a noise, a quiet, choked off moan.

“You should keep going,” he says.

He wants you to keep fucking him; you can do that. You plant your feet for better leverage, and wrap your arms around his waist. You thrust up into his body, as he holds onto you and shakes.

He’s saying something quietly, “Fuck, Marco, fuck,” your name and curse words mixed together, repeated over and over. You keep going. 

He’s so… It feels so... 

Right. This is the right thing for you to be doing.

You come.

It’s only one moment, but that moment is what the whole night has been building to, this one moment of whiteout sensation. This is right.

When you open your eyes Matt is looking at you. He has nice eyes. Or maybe you just like him. It doesn’t really matter. 

When you pull out Matt’s hands tighten on your shoulders. You hadn’t realized he was still holding on. You don’t want him to let go, so you don’t move anymore. You wrap your hands around him too, resting them on the small of his back. He’s heavy on top of you, but you can take it. He’s nearly as tall as you, but so much skinnier.

He’s the one to move away first, pulling away to lie beside you. You take a deep breath, no longer constricted by his weight. You strip off the condom, and toss it in the trashcan. You have a trash can in your bedroom, right there, specifically for times like this. You know how to plan for things you want. Having to get up right now would have been terrible.

You’d much rather stay in bed with Matt for as long as possible. This is great. Matt’s looking at you — he isn’t smiling, but you like this better than his smiles. There’s a hit of a smirk, but mostly his expression just seems open and content. You like being looked at like this.

“That was good,” he says.

“Highlight of my night,” you say, aiming for glib and falling short.

“I don’t know about mine, getting a shutout was pretty cool,” he says. You know he’s joking, but shove him anyway. You’re always pushing at each other. That makes it better.

“Nah, I guess you were pretty awesome too,” he concedes.

You try to hold back your smile, but suspect you’re failing. It doesn’t really matter. Why shouldn’t you let on that you enjoyed the compliment?

You like talking with Matt in moods like this, sleepy and satisfied. Things are easy after sex. The two of you keep talking for a while longer — about the game tomorrow, about what to have to breakfast, about nothing. It’s comfortable. You talk until you’re too tired, and then you turn off the lights.

Matt tucks himself against your side, burying his face against your neck. You wrap your arm around him, and he tries to move even closer. He has one leg thrown over your thigh. It’s cozy like this, all tangled together.

This is the best you’ve felt all day. This is worth it all.

Matt’s looking at you, all sleepily, sweetly. You don’t usually think of this as a sweet look, but that’s what it is. He always looks so sweet before he falls asleep, all loose and pretty and close.

This is good. You’re happy. That’s the last thing you think before you fall asleep. 

It isn’t still true in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: toxic relationship, self esteem issues, and emotional abuse.
> 
> It isn’t a warm fuzzy story. Feel free to ask me for more specifics/questions about whatever. I’m bestliars on tumblr/everywhere too.


End file.
